


honey you're smooth

by gonefroggenn



Category: Candy Route - Fandom, Homestuck, Homestuck Epilogues, Homestuck2 - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Warnings, M/M, Multi, Not because I like them god no just for plot, Reunion, Revolution, To Be Updated as I add more chapters, bigkat, davekat - Freeform, i pick and choose what I want and don't want from the epilogues, implied davejade, implied smoking, maybe fluff I don't know, smallkat likers dni, well. divorced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25776613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonefroggenn/pseuds/gonefroggenn
Summary: The war is over.The revolution prevailed. It's a bittersweet, leaning melancholy feeling. It fills your chest, your very being aching for… lord knows what. Forgiveness? Praise? A fucking hug? All three, you think.You know that nothing is over yet. Earth needs a new leader, now that Crocker herself has fallen. Of course your revolutionaries look to you, Karkat Vantas, to take that role.That's what you always wanted, isn't it? To truly lead?
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam— Background
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	1. A Familiar Face

The war is over.  
The revolution prevailed. It's a bittersweet, leaning melancholy feeling. It fills your chest, your very being aching for… lord knows what. Forgiveness? Praise? A fucking hug? All three, you think.  
You know that nothing is over yet. Earth needs a new leader, now that Crocker herself has fallen. Of course your revolutionaries look to you, Karkat Vantas, to take that role.  
That's what you always wanted, isn't it? To truly lead? 

•••

It's well past noon when you wake up. No sun peaking through your windows, long shut tight and locked up. You routinely glance over your right shoulder, only to be met with the usual brutal knowledge that this wasn't all some bad dream, and that he is not by your side once again.  
You slip on the patch that has been tasked with covering your mangled eye for years now. The aches in your back never cease their screams when you stand from your bed. 

"You're awake." You jump at the sound of her voice, unknowing of her presence. 

"Kanaya." You say, once you fully process the face in your now open doorway. 

"I should have knocked." She says sheepishly, but lets herself into your room anyway. "You slept in," she notes. 

"No shit. I think I deserve a mini coma after this." You run a hand through your tangled hair, grumbling to yourself about rarely having personal time. "You don't look like you've slept in weeks." You inform her. 

"That's not something you say to a lady when she comes into your room," She warns, half mockingly. "I admit I've had some trouble."

"Rose?"

"I'd prefer not to dwell."

Kanaya folds her hands across her torso, somehow managing to make it look relaxed despite her clearly tense muscles. You nod slowly, electing to let it go. She's not ready to have any sort of conversation about it, you know that.

"Right." You say. You're not convinced that she can go without talking about it for much longer, but you're not one to force people to talk.

She bows her head slightly with a grateful smile. "You're nearly late for your speech, you know. That's why I'm here." She tells you. 

"Fuck. That's today?" You can't believe you forgot about this, it's one of the most important post revolution speeches you've had to give. 

"I am not your babysitter, Karkat. Invest in a calendar please." Kanaya frowns at you, but you can tell she's not truly annoyed with you. "They're a rowdy bunch, you know. Especially since your victory." 

"Our victory." You remind her. "I guess Swiffer can hold them off for a while."

"She's been talking quite a bit about her new standup routine. Egbert inspired, apparently." Kanaya laughs softly, eliciting a smile from you. "I'll inform her of her impromptu open mic for you." She continues, turning towards the door. You're grateful for her lack of reprimanding for your tardy behaviour recently. 

Your stiff posture deflates as soon as she closes the door. You love her, truly, but you can't help but feel as though you must put on a front for everyone on this team. You are the leader, you must look the part. You've learned that a strict stature is a respectable one, people listen to you when you intimidate them just enough. 

It doesn't take you long to get ready, all you wear is the same olive-y green suit, a few accents of brown (only the most exciting color, of course). You hesitate to clip on your medals, but eventually resist your urge to leave them behind.  
You've been making a lot of those particular decisions; to reluctantly keep, or to leave it behind in favour of the self. 

Off you go, down the halls of what was once a base for the rebellion. Since the big win, it has been repurposed a little, more if a living system for those who find it a little too hard to return home after all this. There are also those, such as yourself, who simply do not have a home to return to. They're empty now, usually you have countless of your troops saluting to you, or otherwise greeting you. That's not the case today, you know everyone is at the amphitheatre. By everyone, you damn well mean everyone. All your remaining revolutionaries, those who aren't too busy grieving their losses, all mingled in with the common folk of Earth C. Most are here, tonight, rather than revelling in their newly granted freedom.  
Sometimes it really hits that you gave them that. You commanded your battalions and worked to give the people their lives back.  
It's almost too much of a burden to hold. You don't want that praise.  
You hear the crowd howling as soon as you approach the backstage entrance of the theater itself. Kanaya is there waiting as soon as you get inside, where she insists on slicking your hair back. "It'll look nice," she tells you. "You look so handsome with it out of your eyes. Er, eye." Nice save. 

You get in position behind the curtain as Kanaya preps herself to step out on stage and tell Swiffer that the gig is up, and she can get off the stage now. You can hear the excitement in Swif's voice as she drops her set to introduce you; she'd always been so excitable and happy to see you or talk about you. At this point, she's kind of like a daughter to you. The idea of "family" is so foreign to you, though. You hadn't thought about it since Dirk's funeral, under the jacket umbrella. That's… kind of where everything started on it's downhill descent, you think.  
You step out on stage as Swiffer says your name. The crowd tears with excitement, their shouts grating away at what hearing you have left. The lights cast nothing but a stinging sensation on to your eyes, rather than the sense of superiority they used to provide. The mic squeals as you step up to the podium, but not a single audience member seems to hear over their jeers. The air is about as thick as butter at this point, as there isn't enough oxygen left for you up on stage. 

Ugh, now is the worst time for an anxiety attack. You've been experiencing those far too often now, you know how to stifle it until you're alone. Even then, stifle is a strong word. Something like hide, or cover up would be a far better descriptor.  
You raise a hand to silence the mass. It's a little surprising how quick they are to listen to you.  
Your mind wanders as you make your speech, you've practiced enough to know these words by memory. All you have to do is assure them that you'll lead, but make it long enough to keep them geared up and satisfied. Y'know, the Big Cool Leader things. 

You wonder what it would be like if you didn't leave like you did all those years ago. You think that, out of everyone, you and Dave were the most affected by your abrupt disappearance. Maybe, had you stayed, he wouldn't have gotten caught up in that hellshow of a marriage with Jade. You don't have anything against her, but you know that neither of you loved her. You miss your secret little thing with him, you almost physically smile at some of the memories; hand squeezes when no one was looking, kisses shared behind closed doors, finding pure comfort in each other's arms late at night, and— god you miss the warmth of his cheek beneath your fingertips.

You tune back in to your surroundings as you begin to stumble over your words, overwhelmed by a heavy wave of visceral yearning. It aches in your throat as you pick the pace back up in your speech. You scan the crowd, looking for a familiar face to distract yourself with, only to be met with the glint of some all too familiar shades.  
Only, they're red.  
Unmistakable, nonetheless. 

You officially choke on your words, quickly progressing into a fit of coughs; not entirely uncommon with some of the 'habits' you've picked up, but still sudden enough to wrest a few murmurs in the crowd. You turn to look offstage, meeting eyes with Kanaya. Her expression is grave, as if she knew about this before you saw. She makes a motion reminding you to take a deep breath. You do, but the knot in your throat only swells more and more.  
"This—" fuck, your voice is shaking, "This is all bullshit. All I'm doing is spouting reasons, congratulations, and— God knows what, I'm barely even listening to myself." More murmurs from the crowd; you have no idea what part of your speech you were even at.  
"The whole point of this is to say that I will be stepping in as president until… I don't fuckin' know." You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately trying to finish this on a note that doesn't imply the fact that you're about to become completely unhinged.  
Oh, screw it. You need to get off this damn stage. "That's all. Dismissed." You wave your hand. Those who used to be a part of your legion leave immediately, and most others follow in suit. Not once do you lose sight of His silvery glint, as you clamber off the stage. You shove through the crowd, deliberately ignoring any attempts people make to speak to you; you've heard quite enough of their plaudits towards you.  
He has quite the lead on you, it's almost too easy for him to slip out of your sight. It's only once you make it outside that he really makes a beeline, around a corner and out of your sight. No matter how fast you run, you know you won't catch up to him again. 

You need a drink. 

•••  
You order a bourbon once the bar is quiet enough. You had to deal with the rabble inhabiting the bar first, and wait until they all cleared out. The last thing you have the energy to deal with right now is people trying to pay for your drink for you. You only ever have one, so it's not a huge compliment for someone to even offer.  
You signal to the bartender that you're ready to order; the staff here knows you well, you used to hold all your small victory parties here with your inner circle. She brings you your glass just as the door jingles, signaling another patron to the establishment.  
"Come here often?" A new voice next to you asks. Funny, you think, he sounds kind of like Dave. More metallic sounding, as if the vibrations of his tone aren't coming from flesh and bone.  
You decide it's impossible to be him, despite your assumption that you saw him at your speech. 

"No." You grumble in response, keeping your eyes glued forward. You put on your pissiest expression, praying to whoever would listen that whoever this douche is would leave you alone. You're not in the mood for a (certainly not uncommon) spontaneous hook up. 

"Sure." The voice laughs (you think it was a laugh, there's no way this dude had slices of metal to grind to show his baffled joy). "You come here all the time. Best whiskey in the city."

You roll your eyes. Some people really just do not give up, do they? "It's bourbon, shitshack." You take a sip of it to calm your nerves as you try to deal with this wacko. "Did your mother ever teach you how to read a room?"

"Ain't got one." He tells you. You finally turn your head to look at him, mouth open to lecture him about boundaries, only to be met with those glaring red shades. 

"Dave?" You ask. Your voice sounds a million miles away.

"Took you long enough."


	2. A Laugh Cut Short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for a few mentions of alcohol, but it is all healthy drinking because alcoholism is not a plotpoint :) I promise this gets less sad (please don't quote me on that).

You gawk at him, all your emotions building into a stinging boulder deep in your gut. Feels like kidney stones. You had heaps of words prepared to say to him. Apologies, questions, a few choice words that could be considered insults, but.. you know he wouldn't take it that way coming from you. He'd laugh and throw one back, bump your shoulders together like he used to, to remind you that your half-hearted name calling wouldn't hurt him. 

Strange, you can't remember any of them. You can barely find yourself remembering _him_ ; at least not how he is now. You know Dave. This isn't him. There's blankness in his eyes through the tint of his shades, his mouth perpetually set in a line rather than that smile he usually gives you. 

"You don't… look like yourself." You tell him. Yeah, nice going, as if that wasn't clear. Surely he knows of his predicament already, Vantas. You probably struck a nerve.

"Says you, Wazowski." He retorts, followed by that horrible noise that you're only 60% sure is his laugh. You turn your face away, downing the rest of your glass and signalling for the bartender to take it before you have the chance to crush it to bits in your grasp. "Sensitive subject, got it. Sorry." Dave says, and you realize you basically ignored him. 

"Whatever," you grumble. You try to calm yourself by tapping each finger against the pad of your thumb, usually th--

"You still do that, huh? Guess maybe you haven't changed all that much." He pokes. Ugh, and that 'laugh' again. He only laughs this much when he's uncomfortable. "You upset or something?"

Are you? You don't think so. You're not pissed, you're not particularly sad, you're just bordering on hysterics. That doesn't typically fit into the category of 'upset', at least not on your scale. 

You take a breath. 

"No." You answer, followed by a sigh. "No, I'm not. This is just— Jesus fucking Christ. It's a lot. Where the hell have you been?" 

"Oh y'know, here and there." He shrugs. You're kind of assuming the motions he's making, reading the body language of a metallic figure isn't something you're used to. You're used to seeing Dave, not… this. "Found out my brother was fucking Obama before he kicked the bucket, that's a little insane. Other than that, I guess I've been layin' low, avoiding the ex wife and shit."

"Since when do you refer to women like a white conservative male?" You ask him.

He doesn't seem like he has anything to say about that for a few minutes.

"Sorry." He mutters. He almost sounds sad, but you're not sure what you can deduce from him at this point. 

"Why'd you marry her?" You ask. Yeah, sure, that's a little unsolicited. You're past caring at this point.

"What?"

"Why did you marry Jade."

"I don't know." He tells you. You can see right through his bullshit, at least that hasn't changed. You can also tell that he doesn't want to be talking about this, but to hell with feelings. You have questions that you've been sitting on for fucking years. 

"Yes you do." You respond. You can help but allow annoyance to creep into your voice. He goes silent; it's just like him to shut off when he gets into a bit of hot water. "Answer me." You prompt him further. 

"She wanted to. I didn't have much else to fuckin' do, I guess. You left, if you don't remember." He answers quickly, as if he wants to just get this over with and leave. 

"So I walked out the door and you decided to marry a girl you didn't even love?" Okay you _know_ this is unnecessary, really you do. But knowing does not equate to caring, and you sure as hell do not give a single fuck about what kind of argument this is going to start. 

"I did love her." He claims.

"Quit lying to yourself."

"I'm not." Dave insists, but you're still seeing through all of it. "I mean, she's pretty, sweet, and she cared about me, and—"

"Doesn't mean you _have_ to be head over fucking ass for her." You spit. You wave the bartender over for another glass, not necessarily to drink, but to swirl and stare at the amber liquid to keep your mind at ease (and blood pressure down).

"Fine! You win." He puts his hands up, surrendering and admitting he was wrong. Another point for Vantas on the board. "I'm sorry I didn't come after you. I shouldn't have just let you leave like that."

"Eh," you shrug, your head still turned away from him. You don't think you can bear to look at his 'face' now. "At least something good came out of it."

"For someone who's preaching about all the good you've done, you don't look very happy." He remarks, a little out of the blue but you suppose he's simply getting even. 

"Sorry, left the cherry cheeked smile at home. Come back tomorrow." You grumble. "Don't have to look happy to have saved the world."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He asks. "Freedom? Leadership?"

"I wish people would quit saying that to me."

He goes silent. Like, completely silent. You can't even hear his breathing— if he even is breathing. You're starting to doubt that there's any human left in him at all. You've changed your mind, though, about his eyes being blank. Now they're like machinery, showcasing his lack of... everything. Despite him sitting in front of you, you still ache for him, and miss him dearly. 

You turn towards him again, this time with your whole body. You pull your uniform leather glove off your hand, and reach out to touch him. He lets you without question. His monochrome cheek warms beneath your fingertips, yet still at its core is cold, and rough against your skin. You've committed the feel of his skin, his real skin, to memory years ago. You know his cheeks are soft, growing rougher around his jaw, scars, marks, and freckles literally the honey smooth skin on the rest of his body. You know his figure better than you know your own, even after years of being apart. 

This is not him. 

Your expression gives none of your reactions away, aside from a downturn in the corner of your lips as you run your thumb along where his cheek bone would have been. "I miss you," you murmur.

"I'm here." He tells you, placing his hand over your own. 

You shake your head slowly, your hand limply falling back into your lap. "No," you say. You shake your head again, with a little more purpose this time. You _know_ this isn't really him. "You're not." You turn away once again, you doubt you'll be turning back. You sip at your drink silently. Your whole body feels as though your bones have turned to lead, slowly dragging you through the floorboards and deep into the earth.

You've lost everything, it feels. 

"What?" He asks. You don't answer. "Karkat, I'm still me. Just because I don't have a body anymore doesn't mean I'm not still Dave."

"You're the last person who I expected to see doing some fucked up shit like this, you know." You tell him. You swirl your glass, eye glued on the tiny bubbles in the liquid. 

"I had to. You don't get it." 

"Yeah? Why?"

"I— okay, now that I'm thinking about it, it's sounding a little stupid and unbelievable." He laughs again, somehow managing to make that ghastly noise sound nervous. 

"I can handle it." It can't be that bad. 

"Obama told me to." Okay, maybe it can. You want to be angry, but.. Christ, you're already laughing. 

"And if Obama told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?" You wonder aloud. 

"Since when do you use white mom excuses?" He bumps his shoulder against yours, chortling at his reference to your last quip. You shrug, looking over at him again despite your promise not to. "I've missed your smile." He tells you. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, something you never grew out of. 

"I miss yours." A certain sadness tinges your voice, you can't keep it inside. You _miss_ him, you need him back. There's no possible way you can cope with all this new shit that's being thrown at you without someone like him to lean on. Leading a revolution is one thing; you're not a stranger to violence from your upbringing. But presiding over a whole planet? Even the thought is enough to send you into dry heaves. You can't ask him for that, though. You refuse to let your heart be broken again by someone as unpredictable as he. 

"I've been thinking about paying another visit to B-O,-" He stops in his sentence for a second, "Bad choice using his initials. Anyway, I've been thinking about trying to go back to the human model if you know what I mean." He informs you. It doesn't sound like he wanted to bring that up. 

"Why haven't you?" 

He's silent again. If you listen closely, you realize his body does make a sound. A hum of things running, small clicks of cogs. It's calming, almost. Nothing like his heartbeat, but nonetheless it brings you comfort. "Dave?"

"'Dunno. Worried I'll get turned down, I guess. Chances are my actual body won't be able to contain the whole ultimate self thing." He has his face turned away from you now. It's harder to read him when he's this monotone, both in appearance and voice. 

"Right," you mutter. "Scratch that, then. I'd rather you be a robot than not around at all." 

He nods slowly. It's as if he's contemplating something, the energy radiating from him is nothing short of somber. You yearn for the feeling of him in your arms again, allowing him to release everything he bottles inside. You wonder how long he's had this form, surely he hasn't been able to shed a tear. Your heart aches for him, lord knows all you want is to kiss him again. 

Your phone buzzes. You nearly knock your stool over as you clamber to your feet, quickly gulping down the last of your bourbon as you mutter a goodbye to Dave. Your phone rests lit up in your pocket, a message from Kanaya reading "Emergency Base 3 Asap Please". Of course she's still polite enough to say please when there's shit going down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Mary by Big Thief while writing this whole thing blame that not me


	3. All Is Fair In Love And War.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please trust me when I say I have plans I love rosemary I promise I have good things for them. I am simply inclined to angst.

You storm into Base 3, pure fury radiating from your presence. Whoever the hell had the nerve to interrupt your conversation with Dave is going to pay for it one way or another. Shit, that reminds you. You left the bar tab for Dave to cover. Goddammit, tonight just keeps getting fucking worse. 

Base Three was used as a strategy hall. It's big enough to hold your whole inner circle and then some, you'd use it to discuss with and communicate your plans to your circle and the highest ranking soldiers and lieutenants. As commander, it was your job to tell every person in this set up what to do. 

Now, the hall is dark, and frankly kind of cold. You guess paying for heating here when it's not in use anymore is a little bit pointless. There's no sign of emergency, much less the one who texted you. You wonder for a split second if you're too late, if something horrible has happened to Kanaya in the time it took you to get here. Shit, you need to call Rose then. And Meenah, too. Maybe this isn't truly over. 

You're turning to leave when the lights flicker on, and you're met with people yelling *something* at you. Obviously you go into fight or flight, but before you can truly react you process all these familiar faces. Kanaya, Rose, Swiffer, Meenah, and of course all of your inner circle are occupying the room. You can barely hear what they're saying over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, your heart rate thudding well over what it's supposed to be. Your head feels a little too light for your body, but you force a smile on to your lips. Your comrades disperse as they chat with each other, moving to sit at nearby tables and to grab snacks that have been set out. You still have no idea what the emergency is, but you head to one of the farthest tables to take a goddamn minute instead of dwelling. 

Kanaya and Rose come over to you immediately. They stand at a distance apart from each other, Kanaya with her hands folded against her torso, and Rose looking..small. Not physically small, but her poster is hunched over, as if something is weighing on her. Her expression does not read as someone who is happy, someone who is carefree like she used to be when you first arrived on this new planet.

"You're upset." Kanaya informs you, as if you weren't aware. 

"Nice detective skills, Maryam." You grunt. You don't want to be rude to her, but you can't help that you feel like you're in danger when you walk into a dark room and get the everloving shit scared out of you. 

"Unfortunately neither myself nor Rose have the time to therapize you, not do we want to." She says. You never expect her to therapize you, it's kind of a running joke between the two of you since people at the base have started reading her for being motherly. She just cares about you, her wiping your mouth to make you presentable does not make her your pretend mother.   
You help her just as much as she helps you; you've always been right at her side on hard nights, especially after the incident with Rose. It was so… out for character for the Lalonde to pull that bullshit.   
You know, at least, that they've been trying to fix things. You helped Kanaya finally put her foot down to create boundaries, but you prefer to think that she did that all herself. You cannot make decisions for her, after all, but you can steer her head in the right direction when she thinks she's stuck in a corner. Everyone needs an outside perspective sometimes. 

"What the hell is this all for, anyway?" You ask, gesturing to the room around you, at everyone off with their candies and cake, chatting amongst one another. You don't think you've ever seen these people so happy.

"Meenah and Kanaya thought you deserved a congratulation for your speech this evening." Rose replies. Christ, she sounds exhausted. You're starting to think Kanaya hasn't been as honest with you with their progress. Now that you're thinking about it, they both look rather upset.   
"I told her you wouldn't want a surprise. Dave always told me that you didn't like surprises." She continues, which explains all of it. 

A pang of sadness passes through your chest; you almost ache on their behalf. The two of them used to be so deeply in love with each other, but their lack of communication skills got the best of them. You don't want to see them like this, you truly want them to be happy. 

You can see in the way that Kanaya looks at Rose, just now, that she loves her. You can see how her body relaxes when Rose takes a breath, and reaches for her hand.   
"I apologize. I should have gone against my bitterness." Kanaya nods as she speaks, as if affirming that she has recognized her mistake. You're able to see so clearly that both of them know that they are doing things wrong. You can see them trying to rebuild in the gentle way that Kanaya is running the pads of her fingers over her wife's wedding ring. You were wrong just moments ago with your assumptions. 

They're trying, harder than you could ever imagine. 

•••

The rest of that party passes without much trouble. Both Kanaya and Rose end up staying at your table, and you chat the night away with them. They began to look happier as the night went on, their small disagreement from before seemingly let go. Meenah joins you after a while, and of course her usual party shenanigans ensue. 

Your following days pass uneventfully. You don't have much reason to go out, but you try to go on a walk at least one a day so people don't call you a hermit. A good president cannot be seen as a hermit.  
You keep a keen eye out for Dave, a shred of hope that you'll find him again lingering in your heart. 

You don't see him anywhere. You don't hear anything about him until one evening, just before you're heading to bed, when your phone begins to buzz. You answer to Kanaya's voice when you pick it up. 

"Rose has informed me— hold on, she's relaying the info," Kanaya says. You can hear Rose speaking to her in the background. 

"It's almost two, Kan. Is this important?" You ask groggily.

"My wife is speaking to me, please hold." She replies. You can almost feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. You grumble something about already having sleeping issues, but you stay on the phone. Kanaya asks a few questions that you can't decipher (she must be holding the phone to her chest), before finally speaking to you directly again. 

"Hi." She starts, "Dave wanted Rose to tell me to tell you that he is going to see BO. Both Rose and I think he means Obama, but we're not entirely sure what the context of such is, exactly."

Your lungs are heavy as lead, suddenly. It's as if you can't get them to expand, they're only slowly deflating. So many fears swirl through your murky brain at once, your vision clouding. 

"Karkat?" Your hand is shaking, you can barely hold the phone. 

"Hello?" You hear Rose asking what's going on in the background, and Kanaya frantically murmuring to her. 

"Sorry." You force out. Shit, your voice is shaking. 

"What's going on? Is he in danger?" It's Rose's voice on the phone now. You can hear more static in the background, you assume you must be on speaker. You're far too in your head to truly care. 

"He's such a fucking id-- how long ago did he tell you this?" You ask, stumbling out of bed. 

"Twenty minutes or so, you need to tell me what's going on." Rose again, she sounds oddly frantic rather than collected. 

"He's trying to get his physical body back, it's-- Christ, it's the stupidest fucking thing he's ever done. I swear to Jesus H Christ that he's trying to get himself goddamn killed." You're balancing the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you try to dress yourself fast enough, ultimately getting frustrated with the lack of functionality. "I'll call you guys back." You hang up without another word. 

•••

You're grateful for the coordinates that Kanaya messages you. You immediately begin to head towards them, skillfully ignoring any questions she and Rose send you. You know that they're concerned, but.. you don't have time for this, you can't handle trying to answer their queries when you barely have a clue what's fucking happening yourself. You don't know what Dave is doing, you don't know if he's okay, you don't even know if he's still goddamn alive. You can't bear the thought of him being gone. 

It's pitch dark when you reach the coordinates given to you. Your eyes take a while to adjust, but when they do, you see the glint of a familiar figure. You rush over, putting your hands on the shoulders of the robot that you met at the bar a few nights ago. It slumps against your chest, now truly lifeless, and hollow. 

The tightness in your windpipe feels like a chokehold. You're too late. You're too fucking late. You didn't get to say goodbye, you didn't get to tell him you love him. 

Oh god. You didn't tell him. He doesn't know that you love him, that you've always loved him. Your very being has languished for him since the days you'd spent together on the meteor, every touch and look sending another wave of desire through your bones, and he doesn't know that. 

He is well aware you loved him, there's no point in hiding your secret little fling from anyone anymore. You've given each other your firsts of everything; dates, kisses, trust; he knows you so intimately, as you know him. 

And now he's gone.   
Without the knowledge that you still love him. 

You're crying, your chest is heaving for a grasp at whatever goddamn hold on sanity you had left.   
You want to kick yourself, you know who you are. Commander Vantas, shit for brains, you don't cry. Suck it up buttercup. Search the area, you know your drills.   
Sweep the ground, left and right before taking another step forward.   
Look for signs of life, don't dismiss anything.   
Find the body, identify it if you can, take the tags, and head back to camp to tell your general who's found,—

"Karkat?" His voice is weak, like sandpaper is sitting on his vocal cords. You quickly pick up on his ragged breathing, and— what the hell are you thinking? There's no possible way that this is him. 

"To your right, blindass." Okay that is unmistakably Dave, directly in your blindspot. You turn, and you're met with his figure. He steps towards you, his languid movements now the most prominent feature about him. He's so clearly disheveled, his shades are missing, and good lord is his hair greasy. He practically collapses against your chest once he's close enough, his legs giving out on him at the last moment. Obviously you catch him, your arms wrapping around his body instinctively. 

"You are so goddamn-- ugh, I don't even have the words." You say, but you don't sound angry. You couldn't possibly feel something like that with him in your arms. 

"Ludicrous?" He offers, with a laugh. Oh, his laugh. While he sounds fatigued, frankly on the verge of blacking out, his laugh is so distinctly him. It's a sound you couldn't dream of forgetting, and never fails to bring a smile to your lips. Even now. 

"Maybe a little more poignant than that." You mutter.

"Mm." He responds. "You'll have plenty of time to,.." he trails off, his words slurring together. Shit, he's about to conk right out. You're really realizing how drastic his condition is; his body must not be able to handle his ultimate self, you saw it happen with Rose before. "..to think of 'm when you're carryin' me back," 

You're too busy building a gameplan to answer him, you're well into your usual headspace when you're found in a stressful situation. No nonsense, get it done mentality. You hoist him into your arms just before he nods off, and take him home. 

•••

You don't sleep that night. You sit on your floor next to his head which lays upon the pillow on your bed. Ha, you never thought you'd see him in your bed again. He's on his side, facing the room (and you, by extension).   
You had no idea where to take him, so your barely double bed sized cot at base would have to do.

You managed to wake him up enough to get some water and food into him, but he was quick to fall right back asleep. His hand rests by his pillow. You take it in your own hands, tracing his knuckles like you used to when he fell asleep before you. 

You're going to take care of him.   
You're going to love him like you should've been all these years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little bit of a doozy today, I know I stick around ~1.9k words, whereas this is ~2.3k, just bear with me. There is SO much more to come.


	4. In Sickness and In Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick thank you to @bratnepeta for writing the Jade bits for this chapter! :) Sorry for the wait, this one's a little longer than the last few.

You wake up to the sound of his voice next to your head. You must've fallen asleep at some point, in spite of your efforts to stay up. You groggily lift your head from its resting place atop your hands (you consequently note that Dave did not pull his hand away). Your neck and shoulders give a full throb at your sudden movements, you're almost worried about how your lower back is going to feel when you get around to standing. 

"What're you doing awake?" You ask him, slowly rolling your shoulders to work out the cricks.

"Would you prefer I go into a coma?" He asks. He almost sounds like he should be in a coma, with a hoarse voice like that. "Kanaya woke me up. She 'n Rose were looking for you." He reveals. 

"Oh shit." You give a guttural groan, and pull your hands away from his to search for your phone. It takes you a second to stand up, but you manage to with the help of an assload of choice language to distract yourself from the aches in your spine. 

You grab your phone from the desk against the opposite wall, met with countless messages from both Maryam-Lalondes, ranging from frantic to beyond frantic. You assume they must have just come over here to check on you at some point in the early morning. 

"They didn't want to wake you up." Dave tells you from across the room. Funny how he can still tell what you're thinking like this. You nod in response as you scroll through all the messages. 

Great, more shitty news. "Jade knows you're around." You announce, turning to face Dave once more. He's sitting up now, propped up against the wall beside the bed so he can face you without craning his neck. Despite the thick blankets wrapped around his shoulders, you can see him shivering. 

"Yeah, Kanaya told me. Apparently she wants to 'talk'." He shrugs. "No big deal, I can handle it." He adds, but you can tell that he's worrying about it. You're not sure what to say to him, you've never had to deal with anything like what he's going through. 

"You scared of her or some shit?" You ask. He snorts at the question, a smile coming to his lips. You don't have the time to dwell on it though. 

"No, she's not a bad person or anything." He says. He thinks for a couple moments. "She just wanted someone with her, I guess. I dunno." 

You nod slowly. You get it, you understand longing to have someone with you. To not be alone for a little while, y'know? You'd had a few cases of that yourself, chatting around with people you met to spend the night with another person in your arms. You know that Jade took it way too far, but she's not the only one at fault.  
You haven't really thought about what had all happened with you guys since you left, and you don't plan to go much deeper than you have already.

"You're not as talkative as you used to be." Dave remarks. You focus back in to see him looking over at you, his head leaned against the wall behind him. 

"I don't have anything to say." You shrug. 

"That's what I mean. You always have something to talk about." 

"I guess some things have changed." You both fall silent. You hesitate before turning away, slipping your heavy, medal clad coat off your shoulders, loosening your tie along with it. Despite it being uncomfortable, it's all you really have to wear around base. You can't return to any of your previous preferred garb; the moment you begin to let down your front of "in charge", you'll lose respect. That's how it has always been. 

Dave abruptly bursts into a fit of coughs. You rush over immediately, kneeling down on your bed next him so you're able to rub comforting circles on your back. He heaves in between his separate spates of coughing, eventually you opt to slide into a sitting position next to him.  
He slumps against you once he seems to have finished, eyes closed and breathing shakily. You hold him in your arms, keeping him as upright as you can with his head lulled against your shoulder like this. His shallow breathing against your neck sends chills throughout your body.

"'m fine. Thanks for asking." He mumbles, the ghost of a smirk tracing his lips. You roll your eyes. How could he possibly have the gall, much less the energy to be a sarcastic asshat right now?

"Shut it. I didn't know if you'd be able to answer." You mutter in response. "Do you need something? Water?" You offer, looking around the room for that glass you'd given him earlier, beginning to stand once you'd spotted it. His body suddenly tenses next to you.

"Don't go," his eyes are open now, looking directly at you. He's.. scared. You slowly settle back down, holding him against you just a little tighter than before. You both sit in silence for a little while. It takes everything in you not to let your mind wander to the feeling of his body next to your own once again, you don't have the time to be all mushy gushy right now; Jade should be arriving in a few minutes according to what Rose told you. 

A knock on the door not too much later confirms that. You're quick to get off your bed, you wouldn't want to be caught with her ex husband all cuddled up against you. Good thing you move quickly, since Jade did not wait for an answer before barging right into the room. 

"Where have you-- oh.” She pauses. “Karkat. Could you leave for a bit? I want to talk to Dave in private, no offense to you or anything.”

You look between her, and Dave a couple times. Dave gives you a very small headshake, hoping that only you'll see it. You face Jade again as you speak. "First of all, this is my room, kind of rude to kick me out of it. And second of all, no."

“Okay, fine! Then Dave and I will just have to find somewhere else to talk.” 

"Fuck no, he can barely sit up. Just talk here and now, or forever hold your peace." 

“Ugh, okay. Like I was saying to Dave, where the hell have you been? You left without a word and next thing I know you’re basically bedridden and being taken care of by... Karkat, of all people.” She gestures aggressively in your general direction (wow, not even directly at you.)

Ok, that's a little uncalled for. You don't say anything, though. It's not really your quarrel to impede upon (unless you absolutely have to). Dave gives her a casual shrug in response. "You would probably call me batshit if I actually told you what I did, so I'll leave it at 'I went away'." He tells her, a faint wash of sarcasm decorating his tone. 

“Don’t take that tone with me. I know you have a penchant for being sarcastic at really bad times, but it’s super not appropriate right now! And I don’t care if you think you’ll sound crazy, I just want to know what happened.” She seems impatient, and you can't blame her. After all, she has been under the impression that Dave was dead for the past several years. 

Dave rolls his eyes, and glances over at you, sort of as if saying 'can you believe this shit?'. You glare at him. You're really starting to hate his old white man style I Hate My (Ex)Wife humor. It's probably ironic, but God it's getting on your nerves.

"If you're just dying to know, here's the rundown." He sits up a little more, and clears his throat— nice, real dramatic. "I met Obama in the forest, he told me he was fucking my brother, made me ascend to my ultimate self which almost killed me by the way, then I was a robot for a while, then I found this hunk of a man—" he gestures to you, "at a bar and he was all weird about the robot thing which made ME weird about the robot thing and now I'm human again." He stops to take a breather. "Also, I'm gay."

“This is not the time for strangely detailed and elaborate pranks! If you’re not going to take this conversation seriously, then I may as well just leave.” Jade crosses her arms over her chest, and gives you the exact same incredulous look Dave had given you moments before. 

Dave looks at you again, this time speaking his thoughts out loud, "Can you believe this shit?"

You sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Okay Vantas, divorce counselor time. "He's not lying. I mean, yeah, he's leaving out in between information to make it seem like some big joke, but it's not." You say to Jade, before shooting a look of disapproval over at Dave. "Quit trying to make her leave." You order.

“Okay, let’s say that all that stuff that Dave just said is true. Just… why?” She drops her arms back to her sides. Now, she seems less angry, and more dejected. Hurt, even. Understandably so, considering her position.

"Dude. You can't just ask a man why he's gay." Dave looks mock insulted by her question alone. You don't think you've ever wanted to smack him upside the head more than right now. 

“Oh my god, I wasn’t asking why you’re gay. I meant why’d you go talk to Obama in the first place, and why you agreed to become a robot, and, most importantly, why you didn’t even think to tell me about any of this?”

"I happened to come across him, and you don't just walk past Obama without saying something. And I had to become a robot, otherwise I would've, y'know, died. Or gotten sick as ass like I am now." He explains. "I dunno why I didn't tell you. I guess I didn't want to deal with it."

“Deal with it? I’m-- I was your fucking wife! Even if I would’ve gotten pissed, I still deserved to know where you were! Do you know how worried I was about you?” Jade snaps. You have a feeling this is escalating once again. 

"For Christ's sake, our marriage was already failing, Jade." He responds. "Besides, what the hell was I supposed to tell you? 'Hi honey, how are the kids? Oh also I'm a robot and I like men now, sorry!' is that what you wanted?" You can tell he's getting a little worked up from the hoarseness in his voice peaking through.

"Both of you take a breath, good fucking lord." You say, louder than the both of them, obviously using your Commander Voice. No one disobeys the Commander Voice. Nothing to your surprise, Dave listens without a second thought. Jade contemplates for a second before following along. "You either continue this discussion like adults, or it's not happening." You tell them. 

“Fine." Jade sighs. She mulls over her words for a few silent moments before speaking. "Listen, Dave. I’m sorry that I was a bad wife. And a bad friend. I’ve been thinking about our relationship and I just…”

"Hold on." Dave interjects. 

“What?”

"If you're going to apologize, at least try not to guilt trip me." He requests, oh so politely.

“I wasn’t trying to…” She pauses for a beat, as if realizing he's actually right this time. “Okay, sorry. I’ve been thinking about our relationship while you’ve been gone, like I was saying, and I realized that I could’ve been a lot better. I think we both could’ve been, for sure, but I’m the reason we were together in the first place, so I feel like I’m more to blame, honestly. I pressured you into being with me, and that was awful, and I’m apologizing for it.” She finishes, taking a moment to catch her breath after rambling out all that at once.

Dave definitely takes his sweet time processing all that. You're worried for a second that he had zonked out completely, but he disproves that theory by declaring, "I forgive you." It comes out softer than how he was talking previously, like how one would speak to someone they've been best friends with their whole life. "I should've told you sooner that I was hella not into it. That's on me. But.. I dunno. I guess we both needed someone in the moment. So I'm not holdin' it against you or some shit." 

Jade’s silent for a little while, her face unreadable, before she replies. “Yeah. Yeah, God, we were both so fucking lonely.” She attempts to joke, smiling a bit. Dave laughs a little as well. They share a small glance, a moment of reconciliation stronger than their words can hold.  
Then her gaze lands on you. “Wait, so how’d you two bump into each other, exactly? At a bar?”

The three of you chat for quite a while after that. Dave recounts the tale of how he found you at the bar, while you interrupt to correct his inaccuracies of course. He has a habit of exaggerating details, you know this pretty well. Jade tells you about her daughter, Yiffany, and how she's doing well albeit her recent struggles with a certain Crocker. She's doing better now that she's getting the help she needs, both through support from her mother, and from specialists.  
Later on, Jade helps you carry in another cot, so you have a space to sleep tonight. She offers a room in her house for Dave, but he declines. You're not sure why he'd refuse a better living arrangements, but with the clearly rocky relationship the once couple has, you decide it's in your best interest to refrain from pressing. 

•••

You're dead asleep until around one in the morning that night. The room is rather warm when you wake, opposing the sounds of chattering teeth and shaky breaths coming from the other side of the room. You sit up, trying to ignore the sluggish feeling drawing you back into your sheets. 

"Karkat?" Shit, Dave's awake. You hope you didn't wake him, but Christ he sounds awful; he can barely stop his teeth from chattering enough to speak. 

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"It's fucking freezing," His voice is barely louder than a whisper. "Cold as Christ's balls, holy shit." 

You resist the urge to make fun of his analogy, but you do admit it was quite funny. You stand, and bring your blanket over to him, draping it over his curled up body. Now that you're closer, you can see that his skin is glistening with sweat. You reach out, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead and cheeks, quickly noting that he is definitely burning up. 

"I'm going to get you some medicine, will you be okay here for a minute or two?" You phrase that like a question, but really it's not. You're going to get him medicine even if you have to force feed it to him. 

"Only if you promise to stay with me when you're back." He retorts.

"What? I've been across the r—"

"No, with me. You're like a human heater." He drops his voice to a light whisper, "Please?" 

You consider his request for a moment before nodding slowly. You're not opposed to the idea of sleeping next to him, much less cuddling, but you can't help but worry about the connotations. You're not sure if he wants to try again with you, and.. you don't know either. But you can and will do this for him, he's sick and your warmth could offer him a couple extra hours of sleep. 

You make haste getting him the medicine (liquid, bubblegum Tylenol, he's always picky about taking pills), to which he thanks you gratefully. He instructs you to lay next to him, on your back apparently. At first, you're not quite sure how that's going to warm him up, but when he rolls over and cuddles right up to your chest, you begin to understand. 

He's asleep in twenty minutes flat. You try to convince yourself the medicine made him drowsy, but from the way you're drifting off with such ease, you can't be sure that's the only factor.


	5. Let the memory live again.

You wake up in the morning with a weight on half of your body, and across your abdomen. You don't bother to open your eyes and check what said weight is, you'd know the feel of his skin against your own any day. Not to mention his soft breathing against your neck, a feeling you can't help but admit you've ached to have yet again for years. 

He's still asleep, you can deduce that easily.   
Christ, how do you even remember this shit? It's been years since the two of you fell asleep together like this, well over a decade at this point. Sure, you've held on to the memories, milling over every little thing just in case the two of you got a chance to reunite, and— oh good lord, you're obsessed. You are obsessed with the idea of Dave Strider, engulfed in adoration, love, lust, all of it; all of him.   
You have been since the day you truly knew him, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. 

You remember thinking you were jealous of him when he and Terezi had a fling together. Boy oh boy were you wrong. You weren't jealous of him, you were jealous of Terezi. You couldn't hate her, or course not, and you're not proud of your actions in your youth to a lot of people you knew.  
You know you're better now, but do they? That's a poignant question to you, one you know you'll never have an answer to. 

You wonder sometimes, if Dave still thinks about some of the things you've said to him. You know that a few of his less kind words come to mind sometimes, but you're not sure if he feels the same.  
Especially since he remembers so much about you— god that's sweet.

Oh, you miss him. You have so much between you two; he was your first everything, practically. Well, your first good version of everything. You remember how careful he was with you, taking things one step at a time in your secret little thing. 

He listened to you when you told him about the things Gamzee did to you, he let you tell him slowly and he took in every detail; he comforted you after Jade sent you back to those moments with things she did; you know she didn't mean to, she didn't know, but that doesn't make it okay— Dave helped you realize that much, you wanted to brush it off because it was 'nothing', but he wouldn't let you. You're actually grateful for that, from him. 

Of course you did the same, you still have everything he told you about his upbringing and his life in general stored up in your head, words and scenarios he's trusted you to know and keep quiet.   
Something about knowing like this is so... intimate, as if he's allowed you, and only you, into his head. 

You miss him so viscerally, the undying need to have him again pulsating through your body, dragging you further into your cesspool of yearning. You've spent thousands of thoughts wanting him, so many moments of your life caught up in your head, stuck in the memories of him. You remember you wanted to marry him one day, and he wanted that too. 

But memories are not to be lived, only to be visited from time to time. That era of your life is over, you think. Things can't possibly go back to that now. 

"I can feel you thinking." His voice interrupts your thoughts, drawing your eyes open to look at him. His eyes are still close from what you can see with his head resting on your chest. 

"Sorry." You respond. Both of your voices are thick with sleep; you remember how much he loved your sleepy voice. You wonder if he still does after years of bad habits and marlboros. 

"S'okay." He murmurs, shifting to pull the blanket up to his chin. He must be cold again, so you wrap your arms a little tighter around him. You hold him like you used to— firm and protective, but tender. Gentle so he feels safe and loved, just through your touch. You swear you feel his lips curl into a smile against you. 

"Sleep okay?" You ask him. You hope he'll say he slept perfectly, and invite you to uphold this new (but not unfamiliar) sleeping arrangement for the following nights to come. 

"Mhm," he hums, and you're almost disappointed by such a simple response, but to your relief, he continues. "Better than I have in a while, even pre-bot days."  
You can't help but let a smile slip, your chest swelling with a sense of pride in yourself. Sure, it may not be your doing, but you can pretend that being in your arms brought him a good night's rest. 

"Yeah, me too." You say, instead of prompting the notion of sleeping together again. That has so many implications, he'll think you want to be with him again; you do, of course you do, but what if he doesn't? It's possible he wants to reconcile with Jade— okay, you're smarter than that. Clearly he wouldn't do that for a million bucks. No offence to Miss Harley. But still, who says he wants to be with you? Or that he wants to be with anyone at all?  
Just because you're craving him, doesn't mean he's hungry too.  
Yeah that's probably the worst way to put it. 

"I miss this." He tells you suddenly. By the sound of his voice, how he spits the words out quickly, it seems like he had been sitting on it for a while and had to force it out just to say it. That's not really uncommon for him.

"What?" You ask, like it's not the dumbest, most unintelligent and frankly embarrassing thing you could say in response. You're better than this Vantas, come on. 

"Waking up like this— like, with you." He says. He shifts to his stomach, still sort of on top of you, his chin resting on the top of his hand flat against your chest. You can look down at him better like this, really take in how he looks. He's scruffier than when you left, maybe a little unkempt. You can't blame him for it, and either way it's not a bad look. "You have any idea how many years I hoped this would happen again?" He laughs, a hint of nervousness creeping into it. "Woke up every morning hoping maybe you'd still be there and it was all some really fucked up nightmare."

Well that's quite the plot twist. You never expected him to feel the same, but now that you think about it, maybe that was the 'I don't deserve it' and 'it was my fault anyway' ideals creeping up on you. "Me too," you reply. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his. "Missed you." That feels so much better than you expected to admit out loud, oh god. You hadn't realized how badly you needed to say that, or how bad you want to kiss him right now. 

He's quiet, but he's clearly thinking. You know that expression so well. He pushes himself up a little, so he can move better. Before you know it, his face is hovering above yours, and you've definitely forgotten how to breathe. "Can I..?" He asks slowly, neglecting to finish his sentence; maybe he's hoping you'll deflect it if you don't want the exact same thing. Lucky for him, you absolutely do.   
So, you nod.   
He closes the small distance between you in a heartbeat, pressing his lips against yours in such a tender and gentle way, as if he's scared you may crumble. You feel the same, his body feels weak and fragile— the arm he's using to hold himself up is shaking a tad. 

You take the liberty of gently flipping your position, holding your long awaited kiss as you maneuver him on to his back, holding yourself up above him.   
When you pull back, his face bursts into a smile. You mirror his expression with ease, the previously unshakeable tension plaguing your muscles slowly melts, dripping away with ease every time your lips meet his. 

You think you'd like to try again with him, for real this time.


	6. Let the memory live again.

You wake up in the morning with a weight on half of your body, and across your abdomen. You don't bother to open your eyes and check what said weight is, you'd know the feel of his skin against your own any day. Not to mention his soft breathing against your neck, a feeling you can't help but admit you've ached to have yet again for years. 

He's still asleep, you can deduce that easily.   
Christ, how do you even remember this shit? It's been years since the two of you fell asleep together like this, well over a decade at this point. Sure, you've held on to the memories, milling over every little thing just in case the two of you got a chance to reunite, and— oh good lord, you're obsessed. You are obsessed with the idea of Dave Strider, engulfed in adoration, love, lust, all of it; all of him.   
You have been since the day you truly knew him, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. 

You remember thinking you were jealous of him when he and Terezi had a fling together. Boy oh boy were you wrong. You weren't jealous of him, you were jealous of Terezi. You couldn't hate her, or course not, and you're not proud of your actions in your youth to a lot of people you knew.  
You know you're better now, but do they? That's a poignant question to you, one you know you'll never have an answer to. 

You wonder sometimes, if Dave still thinks about some of the things you've said to him. You know that a few of his less kind words come to mind sometimes, but you're not sure if he feels the same.  
Especially since he remembers so much about you— god that's sweet.

Oh, you miss him. You have so much between you two; he was your first everything, practically. Well, your first good version of everything. You remember how careful he was with you, taking things one step at a time in your secret little thing. 

He listened to you when you told him about the things Gamzee did to you, he let you tell him slowly and he took in every detail; he comforted you after Jade sent you back to those moments with things she did; you know she didn't mean to, she didn't know, but that doesn't make it okay— Dave helped you realize that much, you wanted to brush it off because it was 'nothing', but he wouldn't let you. You're actually grateful for that, from him. 

Of course you did the same, you still have everything he told you about his upbringing and his life in general stored up in your head, words and scenarios he's trusted you to know and keep quiet.   
Something about knowing like this is so... intimate, as if he's allowed you, and only you, into his head. 

You miss him so viscerally, the undying need to have him again pulsating through your body, dragging you further into your cesspool of yearning. You've spent thousands of thoughts wanting him, so many moments of your life caught up in your head, stuck in the memories of him. You remember you wanted to marry him one day, and he wanted that too. 

But memories are not to be lived, only to be visited from time to time. That era of your life is over, you think. Things can't possibly go back to that now. 

"I can feel you thinking." His voice interrupts your thoughts, drawing your eyes open to look at him. His eyes are still close from what you can see with his head resting on your chest. 

"Sorry." You respond. Both of your voices are thick with sleep; you remember how much he loved your sleepy voice. You wonder if he still does after years of bad habits and marlboros. 

"S'okay." He murmurs, shifting to pull the blanket up to his chin. He must be cold again, so you wrap your arms a little tighter around him. You hold him like you used to— firm and protective, but tender. Gentle so he feels safe and loved, just through your touch. You swear you feel his lips curl into a smile against you. 

"Sleep okay?" You ask him. You hope he'll say he slept perfectly, and invite you to uphold this new (but not unfamiliar) sleeping arrangement for the following nights to come. 

"Mhm," he hums, and you're almost disappointed by such a simple response, but to your relief, he continues. "Better than I have in a while, even pre-bot days."  
You can't help but let a smile slip, your chest swelling with a sense of pride in yourself. Sure, it may not be your doing, but you can pretend that being in your arms brought him a good night's rest. 

"Yeah, me too." You say, instead of prompting the notion of sleeping together again. That has so many implications, he'll think you want to be with him again; you do, of course you do, but what if he doesn't? It's possible he wants to reconcile with Jade— okay, you're smarter than that. Clearly he wouldn't do that for a million bucks. No offence to Miss Harley. But still, who says he wants to be with you? Or that he wants to be with anyone at all?  
Just because you're craving him, doesn't mean he's hungry too.  
Yeah that's probably the worst way to put it. 

"I miss this." He tells you suddenly. By the sound of his voice, how he spits the words out quickly, it seems like he had been sitting on it for a while and had to force it out just to say it. That's not really uncommon for him.

"What?" You ask, like it's not the dumbest, most unintelligent and frankly embarrassing thing you could say in response. You're better than this Vantas, come on. 

"Waking up like this— like, with you." He says. He shifts to his stomach, still sort of on top of you, his chin resting on the top of his hand flat against your chest. You can look down at him better like this, really take in how he looks. He's scruffier than when you left, maybe a little unkempt. You can't blame him for it, and either way it's not a bad look. "You have any idea how many years I hoped this would happen again?" He laughs, a hint of nervousness creeping into it. "Woke up every morning hoping maybe you'd still be there and it was all some really fucked up nightmare."

Well that's quite the plot twist. You never expected him to feel the same, but now that you think about it, maybe that was the 'I don't deserve it' and 'it was my fault anyway' ideals creeping up on you. "Me too," you reply. You find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his. "Missed you." That feels so much better than you expected to admit out loud, oh god. You hadn't realized how badly you needed to say that, or how bad you want to kiss him right now. 

He's quiet, but he's clearly thinking. You know that expression so well. He pushes himself up a little, so he can move better. Before you know it, his face is hovering above yours, and you've definitely forgotten how to breathe. "Can I..?" He asks slowly, neglecting to finish his sentence; maybe he's hoping you'll deflect it if you don't want the exact same thing. Lucky for him, you absolutely do.   
So, you nod.   
He closes the small distance between you in a heartbeat, pressing his lips against yours in such a tender and gentle way, as if he's scared you may crumble. You feel the same, his body feels weak and fragile— the arm he's using to hold himself up is shaking a tad. 

You take the liberty of gently flipping your position, holding your long awaited kiss as you maneuver him on to his back, holding yourself up above him.   
When you pull back, his face bursts into a smile. You mirror his expression with ease, the previously unshakeable tension plaguing your muscles slowly melts, dripping away with ease every time your lips meet his. 

You think you'd like to try again with him, for real this time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot but I accidentally spent 1.5k words just talking about Karkat and now I have too many ideas to fit into one chapter I sigh into my hands.


End file.
